JC Morgenstern's Tale
by ordinary-geek
Summary: Demons only care for themselves and how their pray tastes – a demon doesn't think of anything else not even someone close to them. They are selfish life forms. That's who they are. That's who I am. Being half-demon, I believe I can't love, I can only hate. So why do I love her? Lust for her touch, & feel like I can't live with her? This feels natural, even if I am her brother.
1. Prologue

_This_ _fanfiction _is_ written by me but some of the characters, places and quotes are made by the beautiful and humorous Cassandra Clare of whom wrote the Mortal Instruments series, and Infernal Devices trilogy for us to enjoy, read and completely be sucked into the fandom. _

_This fanfiction takes place after City of Fallen Angels and City of Lost Souls. This text below is just the introduction, please, if you have read the book, feel free to skip this page/s. Also feel free to be critical and if you see a mistake (spelling mistake, mistake in grammar structure, mistake in a sentence that doesn't make sense) please contact me! _

_And make sure you read my other fanfictions when I upload them - and make sure you come back to this one as well as I will be updating it weekily._

_Now, to the brilliant tale of J.C Morgenstern! __Hope you enjoy!_

I witness the pink of a sunrise. Such a human prospect to view – and be mesmerized each time you foresee such a thing – but I don't see it. All I see is a blinding ball of light that makes my vision observe multiple large black spots splotching in the tranquil mountains in front of me, ruining the peacefulness that will never be inside me – which just pissed me off. The mountains belonged to my home – though I am not like the people that live there – Idris. Between two mountains – where the one splotch of black was – was a huge impressive glass city. The glass windows glistened magically in the pinked sunlight of the setting sun behind the fluffed clouds. Some say, that if humans could see the sight of Idris over the force-field of the glamour, they would be blinded by beauty. I was blinded, yes, but not by how the mountains only shadowed the muddiest of streets and alleyways of Idris – that shouldn't really be seen anyways – but the display of this place, where all the people I hated lived in an easy reach and I just stood there, on a small and simple hill watching the humanist sight of a sheer and feeble sunset.

I enjoy the darkness and chill of a gloomy night, which makes you wonder of what is behind you, and what is hidden in every crack and shadowed corner that you haven't merely laid eyes on before. It never crossed your mind that something as innocent and plain as the scope of the night's sky would hold such nightmares, that hide in the most terrifying places. However, 'nightmares' isn't what I should call it… Though the creatures that live in these 'nightmares' are in reality in the night – in the darkness of the shadows of the unknown abyss. I must say, yes, I am a Shadowhunter – a warrior that beholds the trust and responsibility of keeping the human race safe; even though I don't think that they should be entrusted with our protection when they cannot simply see us with their mundane eyes to thank us. A Shadowhunter is the most powerful being in the world, controlling both the demonic world and the protection of the mundane world. A Shadowhunter is a half-angel, half-human – a great being with immense power. Never the less, I am not like them, and never will I be. I am different – more powerful than the greatest Shadowhunter that has lived, or faster than any demon that's swept the earth, or stronger than any sephe blade that burns the runes on our scarred skin. I must tell you this:

I am Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. But I don't mind if you call me Sebastian. I am half human, like every Shadowhunter that walks on this earth, but the other half of me is different – some have angel blood inside them – but I have something else. I have demon blood trembling through my veins like black and penetrating poison. That's what makes me so better than anyone else that calls himself strong or a Shadowhunter. I am faster, smarter, and stronger than anyone that crosses my path – and no one yet has been able to beat me in combat – but I am still… Somehow a Shadowhunter. Being half-demon has its advantages like that. Even then, there is more – demons are unsocial beings that only care for themselves and how their pray tastes – a demon doesn't think of anything else not even someone close to them (not even a brother, sister, or mother). They are selfish life forms that only enjoy watching you cower in the corner of your beloved childhood home, while you watch your father's red blood splat over the white carpet, staining it forever. As sick and twisted as it is, they enjoy torturing people. That's who they are. That's who I am. Being half-demon, I believe I cannot love, I can only hate – though that's what I was taught by my father, the brilliant Valentine Morgenstern.

My father has been through it all; the love, the life, the teenage drama, the break ups, the collage, the training, the rebellious times, and even betraying the clave. I guess I can say that, I am daddy's little man? Despite the fact that technically I am not Valentine and Jocelyn's first child – even though, yes, Jocelyn Fairchild did give birth to me and traditionally Valentine and his wife was expecting a son already but… Something happened had to me. Valentine, being the sweet sicko that he is, he injected the blood of the lovely Lilith into my bloodstream when Jocelyn was pregnant with the innocent half-angel me. So, wouldn't that make Lilith, my mother? I have the same blood as her, and I am one of a kind – none has been born the same. I am her son. I know I am. Yet Valentine tells me that I am a 'Morgenstern' and still calls me his son – Jonathan. I just ignore him – but somehow, after what he had done to me, he is the only one that has come close to me loving someone… Is that wrong? Someone so evil like I, loving only but his father, don't you think that's just a bit pathetic, huh? Well, I think so. Anyways, this is about more than Valentine and his band of misfits, the insurgents and outcasts – or complete idiots. It is not about Clarissa Morgenstern and Jace Herondale. It isn't about the clave or the glass city – or even the Shadowhunters.

This, this is about me. This is my tale to tell.


	2. He was Reborn

_Previously on J.C Morgenstern's Tale:_

* * *

I witness the pink of a sunrise. Such a human prospect to view – and be mesmerized each time you foresee such a thing – but I don't see it. The display of this place, where all the people I hated lived in an easy reach and I just stood there I enjoy the darkness and chill of a gloomy night, which makes you wonder of what is behind you, and what is hidden in every crack and shadowed corner that you haven't merely laid eyes on before. It never crossed your mind that something as innocent and plain as the scope of the night's sky would hold such nightmares that hide in the most terrifying places.

A Shadowhunter is the most powerful being in the world, controlling both the demonic world and the protection of the mundane world. A Shadowhunter is a half-angel, half-human – a great being with immense power. Never the less, I am not like them, and never will I be. I am different – more powerful than the greatest Shadowhunter that has lived, or faster than any demon that's swept the earth, or stronger than any sephe blade that burns the runes on our scarred skin. I am Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. But I don't mind if you call me Sebastian. I am half human, like every Shadowhunter that walks on this earth, but the other half of me is different – some have angel blood inside them – but I have something else. I have demon blood trembling through my veins like black and penetrating poison.

As sick and twisted as it is, they enjoy torturing people. That's who they are. That's who I am. Being half-demon, I believe I cannot love, I can only hate – though that's what I was taught by my father, the brilliant Valentine Morgenstern. After what he had done to me, he is the only one that has come close to me loving someone… Is that wrong? Someone so evil like I, loving only but his father, don't you think that's just a bit pathetic, huh? It is not about Clarissa Morgenstern and Jace Herondale. It isn't about the clave or the glass city – or even the Shadowhunters.

This, this is about me. This is my tale to tell.

* * *

PART ONE:

_The Raise of the Mortal Sword_

By this time, I have walked home from the luscious view of the glass city – though it wasn't home, it was in Idris but, you know what I said before, Idris is just a place where all the people I hated and loathed in. It wasn't home. Still why do I care? How can I love such a place called, 'home'? I cannot love, I can only hate. No it wasn't home. It was a miniature and bricked cottage with a burgundy cemented roof and dried bushes below the front windows. Next to the house – left and right – there were large autumnal oak trees, their orangey-brown leaves plastering the dirty grass, filled with mud. The cottage had one simple step up to the front door – of which was a rickety old thing with a loose door handle. I turned the handle, and the aged door opened with a loud creak. I stepped inside the house, my boots banged onto the wooden floor – buckles banging up and down, insecurely. The door banged behind me, as a stand in the entrance on the home. The cottage was split in two. On the right, was a kitchen and the lounge room with a long and ugly dining table between the two, splitting the one room in half. On the left, were the study, two squashed in bedrooms, and the unsafe and not working bathroom.

I walked into the lounge room, unbuckling my belt from my waist with my dirty, black fingernails. My hands were scarred with silver thick lines across the front and back of my palms. My skin was pale though I could see the dark lines beneath my cold flesh, which pumped my poison of blood through my body. I threw the belt onto the small coffee table that lies in front of a small two-seater crimson couch – making the silver buckle make a clung noise; along with the sephe blade that lies in a large leather sleeve that was woven onto the belt. The blade's handle looked like crystal, and shown like a bright star in the sky when it was held by me. I ruffle my whitish-blond hair out of my demonic looking eyes, spiking it to the side. I fall myself back into the couch, which lies next to a smoky unlit fireplace – but I could still hear the flames crackle in the silence of the small home, making the most enchanting noise. Funny that, something so simple of this tiny flame of light, which could make all but wonder about what is the world – what is the reason that we live in should abnormal conditions and never notice. Oh, but I notice. I notice such horror that goes around the world, and I just smile in encouragement. Despite the fact that I love flames for only one reason – well 'love' is an indecent word – and that reason is that flames destroy. They destroy homes, loved ones, and history. It lights things up and that never returns after it burns into nothing but ash and smoke – no matter how valuable it is.

My eyes drift away from utter blankness to in front of me where an aged and untidy dining table lays, in front of an old-style country kitchen. I have a split second thought that I should clean the mess up and then, suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. I head darts straight to the slight sunray from the worn away wood of the door – that made holes – where the light of the day drift down to the floor. I stay still and steady in the chair, my back resting on the uncomfortable cushion behind me and then, the knock echoed again from the door. I sigh and get up from the chair quietly. My boots stomp hardly on the ground as I walk to the entrance where it shone the small holes of sunlight. My eyes struggle to look through the 'peaky holes' of the door – so I sigh once again and open the door. The person on the doorstep, jumped in surprise, startled. Their shadowed and hallowed out eyes stared at me – I know this was meant to scare me but it really looked quite funny – and his sewed up lips created a 'duck face'. His skin was a grayish-pale and his hair wasn't to be seen on his bald head. My eyes wonder to his shoulders, they were cloaked with a dusky black cloak. He was a Silent Brother – Brother Zachariah. _Don't look too shocked to see me, Jonathan, _his voice spoke in my mind.

I smile softly at the pasty man, "it is too bold for you escape the City of Bones to see me, Zachariah. I was going to come to you." The Silent Brother lifted his long fingered hands to my shoulder – leaning on my collarbones. His touch was cold, through my black shirt.

_Anything to help one of William's own, _Zachariah's voice said roughly in my head. I didn't know what that meant but I just went along with it.

I stepped back, showing him inside the home, "please, come in." Zachariah's foot showed from under his long cloak, I stopped him with my hand on his chest. "No need to hide from me, brother. You don't need this skin anymore." Zachariah eyes shadowed, I move my hand from his boney chest.

_I refuse to take this flesh off, Jonathan, _his voice hissed.

"Then you mustn't come in," I blocked the entrance once again. Zachariah's hallowed eyes watched me – seeming angry – his sewed lips made a groaning noise. _Fine, _his voice said softly with a sigh in my head. His head bowed. I watch his dark runes on his pasty skin glow blue – with small flames appearing with a flicker in between his fingers. The Silent Brother's skin started to ruffle with golden light, flipping over and over again above his bones. His bald head started to form black and curly hair, growing out of his skull, covering the dark scripted tattoos on his forehead and behind his ears. The hair fell down to cover the new and bushy eyebrows that were plastered above his eyes. His hallowed out eyes, blinked a few times and soon they turn into shadowed and tired looking eyelids that looked down to the floor. His grayish-pale skin turned into a glowing, pore less crust around the man, that made the Silent Brother almost look like he was reborn – and not hundreds of years old. The change of the Brother made an echoing crackling noise as his cloak turned into an old fashioned suit and tie over his slim but muscular body. Zachariah was new – though it seemed to me that I have seen him before, in another life. The change of the Brother made me impressed, though when his grayish colored eyes rose from his bow, I saw a shadow behind him that drifted above his shoulder from a distance – which startled me. It was Zachariah – his hollowed eyes haunted my soul as they looked down at me with a glum expression. Below the bald and pasty Brother, was the newly changed figure of a young that seemed and looked a boy of my age. "What's this?" I point to the figure behind Zachariah. He looks behind himself.

_Once I turn into my old self again, _Zachariah's old hallowed and sewed lips self spoke to me in my head once more, _you simply think that I will get away with it? My real self needs to choose a body to pretend that I am still in the City of Bones. So I have time as my old self, to time to help you, Jonathan and I can still return to my own life as well without getting caught out of the City – out of doing my duties. It's a win-win._

"Well why go through the trouble, if you're going to be found out anyways?"

_Why do you say that? _The new Zachariah's eyes brows scrunched up the middle of his forehead in confusion. Though I have not heard his voice quite yet – I was starting to think that the man has a girly voice and is insecure about it. It is plausible.

"Because, my quest isn't in the Glass City, Zachariah. My plan takes place in mundane New York." I say.

Zachariah's human looking body stiffened but the floating Silent Brother above his shoulders just simply stared at me. _What are you trying to accomplish at that feeble city? _

"Not just I, Zachariah but you. You are a Silent Brother, though you would never be caught as you have the ability to change back to your old self – an old self that only two know your image. And so you can help me."

_Would does be being part of the brotherhood got to do with your plan?_

"I want one thing and one thing only. The brothers have it in their grasp right now. I want to take it."

_The Mortal Sword…? _His voice asks. I nod slowly with a wide smirk on my face. _And you want me to help you steal it? _


	3. There is Coldness in You, Jonathan

_Previously on J.C Morgenstern's Tale:_

* * *

Despite the fact that I love flames for only one reason – well 'love' is an indecent word – and that reason is that flames destroy. They destroy homes, loved ones, and history. It lights things up and that never returns after it burns into nothing but ash and smoke – no matter how valuable it is. A Silent Brother – Brother Zachariah.

The change of the Brother made me impressed, though when his grayish colored eyes rose from his bow, I saw a shadow behind him that drifted above his shoulder from a distance – which startled me. It was Zachariah – his hollowed eyes haunted my soul as they looked down at me with a glum expression. Below the bald and pasty Brother, was the newly changed figure of a young that seemed and looked a boy of my age.

_Once I turn into my old self again, _Zachariah's old hallowed and sewed lips self spoke to me in my head once more, _you simply think that I will get away with it? My real self needs to choose a body to pretend that I am still in the City of Bones. So I have time as my old self, to time to help you, Jonathan and I can still return to my own life as well without getting caught out of the City – out of doing my duties. It's a win-win._

_Would does be being part of the brotherhood got to do with your plan?_

"I want one thing and one thing only. The brothers have it in their grasp right now. I want to take it."

_The Mortal Sword…? _His voice asks. I nod slowly with a wide smirk on my face. _And you want me to help you steal it?_

* * *

"Not really." I say. "I want you to help your new self." I stare back at the hallowed eyed Brother behind Zachariah, "As he is going to steal it." I continue.

_Do really think I am going to help you with this Jonathan? Your father was a good man, and so was his father before him. Why must you prove me wrong, and show me the dark side of not just you, but them?_

"I am not trying to prove anything, James." The Brother's shoulders straightened, "that's your name, isn't it? Your old name." the Brother nodded gradually. "I am nothing like my father; I am not like his father before him. I have nothing to do with them… I am different." My irritation of my real father – Valentine – came through; and not the anger for my so called father – well this stupid silent Brother thought this – (spoiler) Stephan Herondale, Jace's father. He thought I was Jace. He thought I was Stephan Herondale's son… _Anything to help one of William's own_… The Brother's voice muttered through my head, but not like it does when it is talking to me, it was like a memory – something he has said many times before. William… Who's William?

_Hatred floods through your veins like blood, _the dark haired young man pointed his long finger at me, unhurriedly,_ there is coldness in you, Jonathan, _the Brother that hovered over the suited man, folded his arms over his chest, _like there is kindness in the most pure of souls._

"What are you trying to say, hmm?" I lifted up my eyebrows, looking at him with widened and un-blinked eyes. "You will not help me?"

_I will not betray my people of Idris nor the brotherhood just so you can prove how great Jonathan Herondale is! _His voice roared in my mind.

"I am not going to stop everything I have planned for this moment. I am not going to just give up and do nothing just because you will not help me, Mr. Carstairs." I hissed the words away of my mouth, angrily. I shouted each one word louder and louder out of my throat. The Brother stared at me, with clenching hands on his chest. "Do you really think that I would back-down if you told me you would not help me?" the Brother's eyes stared impassively at me, and then the shadowy haired man's eyes drifted down to the floor like he had nothing good to say. I chuckled. "I will get the sword one way or another, but with your help, brother, it will be much easier to get." The door step creaked as the dark haired man steadied his stance – I haven't heard his voice, I wished that I could, I don't know why. People are attracted to mysterious things – things they can't have or hear. Selfish things that you want aren't easy to see or find, though when you get it, you only have it for a small moment in time before you drop it out of boredom.

_I will help you, but in return you have to give me something, _the brother's voice was settled in my mind, and not the profound roar that irrupted before – that blasted out my thoughts.

"What is it?" I ask.

_To reassure my judgment, if I may say, you must show me that all you say isn't true._

"I did not ask for riddles, brother, come on, and spit it out."

_The Herondales are pure at heart and yet, when I stare down at you, above my old self, I do not see the young man kindness or love that I have known before. I see a cruel monster with a stone cold heart. To prove me wrong, you have to show me that you have at least some of the Herondale's passion for such a feeling._

I stare uncomprehendingly at him, as his thoughts walk through my brain cells like little shingles being thrown into the pool – they bounce and bounce through my head like a continuous echo. Even though, I am not a Herondale and probably not even a Morgenstern, I will go through his little test of 'greatness' just to get what I wanted. I would do anything to get the Mortal Sword – would slaughter my own mother, I would destroy my little sister's dreams and the love of the man that I would never be. A good man.

_Jonathan, I want you to fall in love._

* * *

_To be continued_


	4. My Rivals

_Previously on J.C Morgenstern's Tale:_

* * *

_Do really think I am going to help you with this Jonathan? Your father was a good man, and so was his father before him. Why must you prove me wrong, and show me the dark side of not just you, but them?_

"I am not trying to prove anything, James."

_Hatred floods through your veins like blood, _the dark haired young man pointed his long finger at me, unhurriedly,_ there is coldness in you, Jonathan, _the Brother that hovered over the suited man, folded his arms over his chest, _like there is kindness in the most pure of souls._

"What are you trying to say, hmm?" I lifted up my eyebrows, looking at him with widened and un-blinked eyes. "You will not help me?"

_I will not betray my people of Idris nor the brotherhood just so you can prove how great Jonathan Herondale is!_

The Brother stared at me, with clenching hands on his chest. "Do you really think that I would back-down if you told me you would not help me?" the Brother's eyes stared impassively at me, and then the shadowy haired man's eyes drifted down to the floor like he had nothing good to say. I chuckled. "I will get the sword one way or another, but with your help, brother, it will be much easier to get." The door step creaked as the dark haired man steadied his stance – I haven't heard his voice, I wished that I could, I don't know why. People are attracted to mysterious things – things they can't have or hear. Selfish things that you want aren't easy to see or find, though when you get it, you only have it for a small moment in time before you drop it out of boredom.

_The Herondales are pure at heart and yet, when I stare down at you, above my old self, I do not see the young man kindness or love that I have known before. I see a cruel monster with a stone cold heart. To prove me wrong, you have to show me that you have at least some of the Herondale's passion for such a feeling._

I would slaughter my own mother; I would destroy my little sister's dreams and the love of the man that I would never be. A good man.

_Jonathan, I want you to fall in love. _

* * *

I could see behind the Brother that the clouds were dimming to a dark and gloomy grey and the sky was falling from sunset to night, the sky a being a navy blue. Finally, the night has come. I had a sensation down my back which perked up a smile on my face; like I could hear the terrifying screams of my people – the demons.

_My old self will guide you but he mustn't help you in speech, from now on you have a friend, an ally, Jonathan Herondale, but I forbid him to talk until you find the one you desire. _I wanted to just hit the Brother with a massive, steel pole slamming his head against the ground, knocking him out and then, drag him into the small cottage of mine, and chuck him into the fireplace and start a blazing flame on top of his body. Let him burn – hear him scream. God, I love fire.

"So… he will start talking to when I find the woman I feel 'attracted' to?" I say with a hush snarl.

_If a woman that attracts you, then yes, if a man attracts you, then yes as well. But it has to be real, you cannot simply act attracted to one person, Jonathan, especially in front of me. I know true love when I see it, boy, even my old self. I have lived several hundred years, and not a day that passes by where I do not recognize love. _Who is he to tell me what to do? How to love? He doesn't know me. He probably just thinks that I am a lame and inconsiderate teenager just looking for something rebellious to do – like vandalizing or capturing a rare penguin. He just thinks I am like the mundanes – with insecurities or the need for attention. I do not have chinaware in my grasp or make up in my bag like a horny school girl. I am Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern – a Shadowhunter, a warrior – the evilest Shadowhunter, yet. I am half-demon, bitch, you cannot tell me who to love – nevertheless, I cannot.

"Love can be in different forms, Zachariah." I tell him.

_Though true love, uh, that's magic in the most natural and yet, the most complicated way ever made. It's pure. That will make me see who you really are, who you are destined to be. Is you are a person I shall trust with the Mortal Sword. _He thinks he is so wise. Yet, wisdom doesn't get you anywhere in my world. You know what does? Hate – and not that type of hate that mundanes just throw around their feeble world, like a tennis ball. The hate that fills you to the core and lurks in every nerve, cell and bone of your body… The hate that makes you do the most selfish things to an innocent family or a child.

"And what if I decline this 'challenge' you give me, Brother, and get the Mortal Sword for myself?" I say evilly.

_ I know that you are going to steal it and I am a trusted Silent Brother of the clave, Jonathan, don't be so naive._ Am I that intimidating that he needs to threaten me with such unintimidating scenarios – like me being captured by the clave? He doesn't realize how I can break all the members of the clave's wrists, escape without a single scratch and have time to go to a Thai Restaurant where you can watch magic shows and strippers – and wear glow sticks, but that's not important.

"This has been a trap this whole time! And how do I know that when I accomplish this challenge and try and get the Sword, you won't turn your back on me, and give me to the clave first-handed?" I howl.

_Because I am loyal Shadowhunter and Brother, I will not turn myself away from an agreement. If you accomplish my test, and fall in love, with my old self as a witness, then_, _I will know that the Herondale bloodline of love hasn't died out and I will help you on your quest to get the Mortal Sword, and we will part our separate ways. Me to, the Brotherhood and you… to whatever you have got planned after this. _

I nodded vastly. Fine, if this is what I have to do, if this is what it takes to get the Mortal Sword without any suspicions from the clave or by the Shadowhunters – my rivals – that will lead them back to me and the Mortal Sword. I wouldn't want them to find them what I am up to, because when I hit them, I want it to be hard and I want it to be unexpected. "I will do it," I say. Even if Valentine told me that I cannot love, and only hate, I will try my hardest to get to the Mortal Sword, and conquer to the next stage of my ultimate plan of executing the most loved and admired Shadowhunter the world knows right now.

Clarrisa Morgenstern.

And I don't care if Jace stands in my way, I will kill him too.


	5. Magnus Bane of All People

The Silent Brother, Zachariah, had left my door step at the final sight of the sunlight in the sky, it was dark now, and he had left his old self, James Carstairs as my unspeakable ally. I invited him into my cottage – he entered without any word, just silence. It was kind of haunting. I didn't rely on voices or speak as my main communication – though I doubt that James will speak through written words or sign language, as that is cheating. I didn't count on charades either, as a man of his age wouldn't know what those mundane games are either. So I was stuck talking to myself instead – well basically… James would be there to listen. I walked the Brother into the kitchen, "hungry? Do you eat?" I ask the man. His black hair covering his forehead messily in curls; his grayish eyes watched me dully and without a blink. The Brother nods, "oh so you're allowed to communicate through that… Just simple yes or no questions?" I say. James nodded again. "I was going to say, a week with you just staring at me like that… its gunna make me go insane…" James' face stayed blank, though I laughed – chuckled... Without even smiling. I clear my throat out of the silence, "you're right, I mean, it would make me _more _insane." This time, James smiles, showing white and straight teeth; his breath heaved a laugh though no sound came out of his mouth. I walk to the fridge, which was to the right, and against the wall. It was a small white thing that was only a few centimeters off my height but was skinner than me. It had one door which was the fridge compartment – in which I open – and above it was a freezer. "So what do you eat? We got bacon, cheese, carrot, olives…" I look back to James.

The space where James was standing was empty. I look round the kitchen, then my eyes move to the dining table and the lounge room behind it – James isn't to be seen. "Brother?" I say, slamming the fridge door. The place was silent – not even a creak of the timber floors could be heard, it was like the Silent Brother just got up and vanished. Then suddenly, I hear a slam, vibrating the hallways walls. I rush out of the kitchen, banging my knee on one of the dining table's legs. I walk vastly through the lounge room, to entrance of the house, which led to the hallway. I look head to the door of one room, the light not shining through the bottom gap of the door. No one was in there. I look right; down the hallway – opposite the front door – I walk down it, seeing a dark shadow against the wall. There was a spark of blue light, lighting up the end of the hallway, making the small green fragments on the man's face glisten like glitter. And then the light disappeared, turning the hallway into the plain black it was.

"Come any closer," a sinister – but familiar – voice trembled through the air from the dark shadow that waits at the end of the hallway. "And James Carstairs will be at the bottom at the ocean before you can say, 'stop'." I hear James gasp in fright.

"And why would you do that? The man hasn't done anything to you, now has he?" I say, as I take another step.

The blue flare lights up the hallway again, showing the face of the attacker. His cheekbones were high and very olive colored. His eyes squinted slightly as black eye liner surrounded his cat-like eyes – that glowed like candles. Glitter flickered up and down his face and especially around his eyes. His lips were a crispy red, and his ears were pierced top to bottom by silvery earrings. The man was Magnus Bane. The blue flame was lighted up in one of his hands – as he was a warlock, he can do those things – and his other hand was placed at the collar of James' neck. James' back was against the wall, his head lifted up as Magnus' fingers gripped around his neck, pulling James' feet off the ground. "Magnus?" I say.

"Surprised to see me, Jonathan Christopher? Thought that you could get away with your sneaky movements?" The warlock chucked. "Do you seriously think that the Silent brother will help you? How do you not know that the man isn't telling the clave of your location, right now as we speak?"

"Because you are here, and knowing you, Magnus Bane, you wouldn't be in a 100 mile radius if the clave was coming for me."

Magnus takes his hand off James' neck, making him fall to the ground in a gasp. Magnus' hand slips into to a pocket of his tight purple jeans, it takes him a minute for his hand to find something from inside his pocket but then when his hand lifts out of his pocket, I see. Two of his fingers were holding a small, metal object. The object glittered brighter than what green stuff that was on the warlock's skin. "So, are you going to ask why I am here, or shall I spell it out for you?" It took my eyes a while to adjust but then I saw what he was holding. Magnus was holding a ring.

A Morgenstern ring

* * *

_… 5 minutes later …_

* * *

"I have to say, Jonathan," Magnus sits down on a chair at the end of the dining table, crossing his legs. "It was quite hard to find you." His head leant on his ringed fingers. In front of his elbow – that sat on the face of the table – was the bulky Morgenstern ring – the exact replica of mine. James sat at the other end of the table, his face rested in his arms, which were folded on the table. "I really thought you would be a gloomy, mossy and ruined castle type of man. But here you are, standing in an old-lady style cottage with flowers on the window ledge and quilts on the couch hanging on the back."

The look on his face made me suspicious – the look was like he was concerned about something or someone but also annoyed; probably annoyed that Magnus was in the presence of his ally's enemy – me. His eyes were sparkling from the water in his eyes; he was trying to keep his sadness in. "Where did you get the ring Magnus?" I ask. He doesn't answer, his cat-like eyes drifted down to the ground. "Jace doesn't have the ring anymore, I have it." I show the silver circle around my scarred finger that had an 'M' engraved into the metal. "And Valentine's… Where did you get it?" Magnus shakes his head, as a sob escapes his mouth. It was sort of like a sigh or a quick exhale but I saw a small tear drop from his lowered eyes. I didn't care that he was crying. He was a warlock – half demon like me – and not a human. He was different like me… An out-cast. And yet, here he sits sobbing out his feelings. "Magnus!" I growl his name out to get him out to snap out of his cry. His eyes raise to me; red circles were created around his eyes and tears formed around the black slit of his pupils. "What are you doing here?" I ask him calmly.

"Brother Zachariah told me that you might need a portal." Magnus says with a very dull tone.

"Portal?" I ask. Why would I want a portal? What use would a portal do? Why would he – Magnus Bane of all people – want to help a guy like me? He is friends with Shadowhunters – wouldn't it be a crime to help me? I have killed hundreds of the Shadowhunter kind –the clave wouldn't even take the second glance to kill me. "Why do I need a portal?" I growl.

"Brother Zachariah said something about giving you a test…" He drifted off. "I am only doing my part." Magnus waved off. I then get a chill down my back. So Brother Zachariah has given me help. Even though he said that he would not give himself to help – I know, James Carstairs is here but he cannot talk, thus he cannot help. How can I trust the man? How can I trust him with my information of stealing the key object of my plan – the Mortal Sword? How can I trust him? _I am just doing my part,_ Magnus' voice floods through my mind. Did he know that Zachariah was going to do a deal with me?

"Why do this? Why help me?" I ask. I had to ask, if he was here for a reason. I would like to know. I would hate to see myself care but this got me curious. Magnus. Magnus Bane of all people is helping me. I don't care if he is helping me over some stupid bet or deal that he agreed on with Brother Zachariah or is just doing it for 'shits and gigs'. I just felt… Loved?

The warlock stood. His florescent yellow button-up shirt unwrinkled out from his waist and dropped to the top of his thighs – over his navy pants. He wore a Silver Star amulet that hung from a brown rope. "It isn't about the 'why's' demon-boy." I stiffen my shoulders and my jaw tightens. Magnus' grin disappears. I had that sort of effect on people. "Look, I don't know why the Brother has asked you to do this task and I don't know why I have to help. But I am here and as much as I hate the idea, I am offering it."

"Sounds like you _have _to offer me help." I point out.

"Do you want the portal or not?" Magnus snaps. He sounded like one of those old and worn-out parents that complain about _everything_. He reminds me sort of like my father, Valentine. Magnus' face right now was straight and angry looking; like he just saw his mother killed, and was trying to keep in his emotions inside, so he couldn't give the murderer the satisfaction he wanted. That or he was just bored and didn't want to be here. I guess he had better things to do – he was the High Warlock of Brooklyn after all. "Well?" His voice snapped. Nup, he just didn't like me.

"Fine I will take the portal. I don't see why I need a portal to accomplish Zachariah's task." I tell him.

"A portal can take you to any place in the world – but it has to be in your thoughts." Magnus hissed like he was pointing out the obvious.

"Yes, yes. I know what a portal does. I don't see it will be useful to me, warlock. I am not finding a place. I am finding a person." I say with a sigh, I was getting sick of this talk, it just went on forever. Get on with it. Just tell me why I need the portal so I can get to the Mortal Sword and Magnus can go… Back to his cat. Meow.

"It can find people too. It teleports you to the place where the person is _located_." Magnus was talking to me like I was stupid – like he thought I was just a useless nobody, with no brains or ideals.

"But a person you don't know… Can you still use the portal?" I ask. I had to ask it. I don't know who I love. I don't even know if I can love. I dot even know it is possible for someone like me to love. I mean, look at Magnus. He has all the power in the world, and centuries to live and yet, he is living in a tacky New York apartment with his cat that hardly stays in the house – even for a party thrown for him.

Magnus pondered on my words. His think face was as straight and dull as his angry or sarcastic face. He simply put his fingers on his chin – to show that he was thinking or faking it. "Yes." He says with a murmur. "I think you can. Just simply think of the personality or looks that the person should have and the portal will chose out the most pure person in the world with that kind of gift."

"Have you tried before?" I ask.

"…NO!" his voice instantly darts out of his mouth. His eyebrows scrunch up on his forehead. His cat-like eyes widened like he had just been shot. "Of… course not." His expression just made me think that he had tried it before but didn't tell me because the lucky-draw person turned out to be a gay hobo wearing a unicorn onesie that tried to kill him with a giant lollipop. That can happen, right?

"Alright summon a portal."

"Tomorrow," Magnus waves me away. "Till then," he starts to walk to the hallway again. "I shall take the best room for my slumber." I roll my eyes.

* * *

_To be continued_


	6. A Walkway with No End

_[Clary's Pov]_

* * *

Goosebumps travel up and down my arms, trembling and shivering my skin. The darkness of the hallway scared me, as I look down the blank canvas. Suddenly, I hear a bang. It was a loud and irruptive noise that echoed through the hallway walls like a drum. "Hello?" my voice escapes out of me. The bang irrupted once again, still the noise louder and more intense. "Who's there?" I ask the echo – expecting it to answer me. A shiver goes up and down my spine and hair spikes up on my arms. The air turns cold and I shiver yet again. The loud bang clangs over me again, I jump in fright. The noise was followed by a chuckle. Someone was here. Someone was out there.

"Hello?" I say with a now stern voice. A slight thud booms behind me, I turn around – expecting to something or someone – however, all I see is blackness of the night in the hallway. The stone floor was cold against me bare feet every step I took. "I know someone is out there." I tell them. As I speak, a staggering whisper starts to travel up and down the stoned corridor. I grasp the buckle on my belt; the silver thing electrocuted me as I touched it, sending a tingling sensation down to my toes. My fingers travel to the leather pocket on the side of my belt. My fingers flick the seal open to find a handle of a sephe blade in my grasp. I pull the small thing out of the pocket and placed it in front of my face, shielding me. All of a sudden, a wave of wind flood through the air and flicks the blade out of my trembling hands. The blade was sent to the floor, making a clanging noise. I have to get out of there – that's all I knew – but how?

I knell down to the floor, my palms lying on the stone cement. I slip my hands into my jacket pockets and there comes out my phone. A loud bang thuds through the silence yet again, nevertheless, it doesn't make me jump. My phone was a small thing that fitted in my petite and childish-looking hand. I pressed a random bottom on the keypad and the screen lit up – making my eyes flinch in surprise. On the screen it showed many things. It showed the service rating, the battery remaining and the time. The time was 10:34 PM. I look up to the top left hand corner of the screen to see the service rating. There wasn't any signal. "What the…?" I say as I stand up to try and get reception – still nothing. I place my arm above my head, the light from my phone shining on my face as I watch the service rating. I was hoping for two bars… One bar… Anything to get me out of this situation – to call for help. The thing is, the service rating didn't even change and the light dulled from my phone. I take my arm down and stare blankly at the utter darkness of this hallway. I can't call. I am alone. "Where am I?" I ask myself.

That was a very good question to wonder. Where am I? The fact is; I didn't remember coming to this blackness of a hallway. I'm not even sure if this is even a hallway… I am just walking straight; like a forever ending walkway with no end. The loud bang irrupted again and awoke me from my thoughts. This time, I jumped in fright and yelled an, "Argh!" in a huff. A chuckle came after it. It sounded closer now. Must it laugh at me when I am scared? Is that it wants? Does it want me to be scared? Well they are doing a real darn good job of it. "What do you want?" I ask the laughter.

"What do you want?" a voice mimics my voice – it sounded girlish but also chilling and terrified each of my bones. The deep chuckle broke out of the walls once again. My arms shiver at the noise.

I huff out a breath, "that's not funny."

"That's not funny!" the voice mimics me again, growling out each word. The voice was much louder, deeper and man-like than before. I huff out another breath, trying to keep me calm but I swear every time the voice talked the air just got colder and colder – making me just shiver and not just out fright.

"What do you want with me?!" I order out of my mouth, hissing every word. I was sick of this game. I wanted to know some answers and I wanted to know them now. Like: where am I? Who are you? What am I to you? Why are you doing this? What you want with me?

"What do _I want with you_? What possibility I would _want _with _you, _I wonder?" The voice spoke to me with an enchanting and dick-like tone.

"Look, I don't know why I am here but I know I am innocent…" I trailed off.

"Are you now?" the voice talked back with a sly tone. [Insert another creepy chuckle, activated!]

"I know Shadowhunters," I say. "I know the clave. If you mess with…" suddenly, a light was turned on at the other end of the hallway, my eyes shut and sting from the uninformed shine. The light flickered and shone onto my face, and as I opened my eyes, I saw a circle of light around a dark figure. At first I thought it was the person that made the voice – but then I remembered that they are too far away to be the voice. The voice sounded like they were next to me, like they were whispering in my ear. I then realized the shadow of the person, hung from ropes that wrapped around their wrists. The rope fell from the ceiling and the body danged there limply above the ground. The body's head rose, making me see a sudden glimpse of fair blond hair. Jonathan. My heart races and my stomach drops – I hoped that he was ok.

"Look, I captured two Shadowhunters." The voice murmured with a chuckle but I couldn't see a person anywhere.

"Clary!" Jonathan's voice shuddered softly but I could still hear it from the end of the hallway. "Clary, run! Behind you! A demon…" My shoulders stiffen. "A demon is behind you!"

I instantly turn around to face the horrific and skull-like appearance of a demon. Blood poured out of his mouth like a warm crimson waterfall. His eyeballs were red and glowed like a stop sign. His neck was bent and his skin was cracked, showing busted veins – that dripped fresh blood from the demon's body. One of the demon's arms was metal and spiky – almost resembling a chainsaw – widgets twisted and turned as the spikes started to hum like a motor. The demon gave me a sly and creepy smirk showing dagger-like and blood red teeth. The demon's eyes widened as he said, "boo!" in a crackled voice. I screamed, turning with a racing heart and ran. Rapidly, a sharp rope caught my foot and tripped me off my feet; hitting the front of my body hard onto the stone floor. My body throbbed in pain. I try to get up and I fail.

"Clary!" Jonathan's voice ringed in my ears as the rope dragged me back to the demon – the spikes cutting my flesh open to make gashes dagger into my ankle. My fingernails try and dig into the stone floor, scraping wildly as the demon drags me. I try and pull myself away but soon, I met the eyes of the demon once again. They stared down at me, staggering back and forth with blood spurting out of the bottom of the demon's eyes. A chuckle moved up and down the hallway as I breathe heavily in fright. Unexpectedly, the hallway got thinner and shorter, and soon Jonathan was hanging from the ceiling just centimeters from me and the demon. The demon's rope was still daggered into my flesh and rubbing against my bones. The demon then stood onto the sharp spikes, grinding the saw like structure into my ankle even harder. I screamed and so did Jonathan. Pain trembled through my body as agony fell through each one of my nerves. I feel a swift spread of air coming near to bottom of my foot; I brace myself for another push of the spikes into my leg, "No!" Jonathan yells at the demon. The demon's foot hovers over my ankle as tears flood out of my eyes. "Stop…" Jonathan says softly now. "I'll do whatever you want… Just don't hurt her."

* * *

I woke up with an uneven breath from the nightmare. Cat-like eyes stared at me in the darkness; Magnus was sitting beside me in a chair. The bed sheets were wet with sweat, covering my legs. "Interesting." Magnus says.


End file.
